


Longings and Alcohol

by jumble_of_fandoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10.16 coda, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol dependency, Angel longing senses, Angst, M/M, Mark of Cain, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3661116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumble_of_fandoms/pseuds/jumble_of_fandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is stuck back at the bunker with a cold while Sam and Dean go on a few hunts. What happens when he hears Dean's confession?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longings and Alcohol

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick 10.16 Coda. Got it in before tonight!! Sorry it's late; this weekend almost killed me..

Cas makes his way around the empty bunker, before finding his way to the living room area. Throwing his pillow and blanket down on the ragged couch, he starts to search around for the remote before finding it buried behind some of the smaller pillows. He leans back and wraps the blanket around himself before flipping through the few channels that he really cares about, trying to find something interesting to watch.

A cough wracks his body and he grimaces at the tightness in his chest. Even though he is an angel, the failing power of his stolen Grace has made his vessel more susceptible to random colds and fevers. All Castiel cared about was the fact that his head hurt, he was freezing, and he couldn't seem to stop sweating.

He wraps the blanket tighter around himself and settles in to watch some random movie about robots; something that doesn't seem to have interested Metatron.

Cas twitches slightly as a small buzzing fills his head. He shakes it, but the buzzing continues and starts to flow through his veins.

_There are things, people... Feelings..._

Cas's head whips up as Dean's voice fills his head. The feeling in his veins grows stronger and Cas finds himself completely overwhelmed.

_I want to experience differently than I have before, or even for the first time…_

The feeling grows stronger and Cas has to choke back a sob at the pain and sadness that follow quickly after the longing, dragging him down until he is curled in on himself on the couch.

_I’m starting to think that maybe there’s more to it than I actually thought..._

The spoken words stop, but Cas can still hear Dean, hear all of the things he is unable to say but is still thinking so strongly. Desire and pain, need and hate course through him as Dean continues...

A couple of hours later, Castiel is finally able to uncurl from his ball on the couch. His blanket now has a large wet stop on it near his face, but Cas is unable to care. He looks at the television set and vaguely registers that the movie has changed, but can't focus long enough to figure out what is even going on in this new one. After a few attempts, Cas gives up and gropes for the remote. Finding it, he switches off the tv and gathers his pillow to his chest.

The bunker is too quiet, too empty, and Cas can't stand it. Sam and Dean aren't due home until sometime tomorrow night, and Cas can barely handle the silence as it is. Running his hand through his hair, he doubles over as another round of coughs over takes his body, shaking him to the core. His Grace burns as it tries to heal the wounds on his throat and lungs, but the feeling only makes him cough more and it is several minutes before he is able to pull himself out of it.

Once he catches his breath, he decides to go somewhere else in the Bunker. Maybe back to his room...

Cas blinks and finds himself in the kitchen, pillow and blanket trailing next to him. He looks around, wondering when he actually pulled himself off of the couch and walked in here... Shaking his head, he walks over to the fridge and opens one of the doors, looking for anything that might actually taste good at the moment. He eyes the soup Dean made, saying it could cure anything, but passes. His eyes roam, but nothing catches his eye again and he closes the door with a soft sigh.

Walking over to one of the cabinets, he opens the door and pulls out the bottle of whiskey Dean keeps hidden behind the large pots on the shelves.

Clutching the bottle, his pillow, and his blanket, Cas somehow makes his way down the hall where the bedrooms are. He heads towards his, but the longing courses through his body again and he has to stop and lean against the wall. Breathing hard, his hands try to curl into fists, fingers digging into whatever they can.

What usually feels soft and caring, is now filled with such self-hatred and despise that Cas can hardly think through the conflicting emotions. Dean is calling out to him, yet simultaneously pushing him away, trying to hide how he really is from himself.

The feeling finally passes, and once Cas recovers enough from the coughing fit that follows, he makes his way through the door right next to him. One look tells him that he misjudged where he was leaning and is in fact in Dean's room. The weapons sparkle and gleam in the low light, drawing back memories of previous...adventures. His eye is drawn to the blade Dean carried with him in Purgatory, but he tries not to think of those days, instead eyeing the bed before crawling onto it.

He can be out of the room before the brothers get home, right? He twists the cap off the bottle of whiskey, covers himself in his blanket, leans against the headboard, and takes a long pull of the amber liquid.

It burns his throat, but it isn't long before he is taking another pull. He eyes the clock and does a mental tally.

It's going to be a long fourteen hours...

~*~

"C'mon, Dean," Sam yells with is head still buried in the trunk of the car. "At least let me cook you something for dinner!"

Dean grunts as he pulls himself from the Impala, stretching his limbs out after having to sit still for so long. He tries to muffle another cough that wracks his chest, turning away from where he knows Sam is. "Nah," he replies, finally finding his voice. "Just want to get some sleep in my own damn bed."

He grabs his bag off of the ground from where Sam has set it down and eyes the Bunker stairs.

"Go ahead, I'll park her." Sam says, catching Dean's eye. "You earned some sleep, so I'll see you later." Dean watches as Sam shuts the trunk lid and goes back to the driver's seat. The engine starts to rumble as Dean makes his way into the Bunker.

Passing up the kitchen and the showers, Dean heads straight to his room, flicking on the light as he opens the door. The smell of alcohol assaults his nose and he tries to figure out what the lump is on his bed. A shock of dark hair sticks out and recognition fills him.

"Cas?" He asks, voice rough. The lump starts to move slowly before a head pops out, squinting in the light. "The hell man?"

Cas only sighs before burrowing back under the covers. Dean feels his eyes widen in shock before he actually looks around the room, taking in the six whiskey bottles that litter the floor. Dropping his bag down, he walks over to the bed and yanks the blanket away, letting it fall to the floor. Cas only groans, curling in on himself, arm over his head to shield himself from the light.

"Cas, what the hell are you doing in my room?" Dean demands. "And why did you feel the need to raid my stash?"

Cas stays quiet and Dean finally lays down on the bed next to the angel. As he gets closer, he realizes that Cas's body is shaking slightly, and he puts a hand on his shoulder. "Cas, talk to me man," Dean whispers, resisting the urge to wrap Cas in his arms, body itching as the Mark reminds him of its presence. Dean pushes away the thoughts the rise to the surface, but his arm continues to ache.

Cas moans, sadness and sorrow filling the noise and Dean is pulling Cas towards him before he even really realizes it, not able to take the broken feeling the sound pulls from him. Reaching over the side of the bed, Dean's fingers graze against the soft material of Cas's blanket and, after a bit of stretching, he pulls it over the two of them, blocking out the light and trapping in the warmth.

He wraps his arms around the still shaking Cas, and pulls his back close to his chest. "C'mon, Cas, talk to me..." his brain vaguely registers the fact that he is repeating Sam as he runs his arm up and down Cas's arm, trying to bring some warmth to him.

His arm aches again as the Mark pulses, thoughts of not being worthy of Castiel - or anyone really - fill him again stronger than before. Cas gasps, body stiffening under Dean's fingers, and Dean is pulled away from the thoughts the Mark places in his head.

"Dean..." Cas practically whines before he is rolling over and his face presses against Dean's chest.

"I'm here," Dean whispers, hand going to Cas's hair. His fingers weave into the greasy strands. "Talk to me, Cas..."

Cas shakes his head and Dean sighs, body aching as the Mark pulses again. Cas cries out softly, and Dean finally makes the connection. He starts to pull away, moves his hand from Cas's hair, telling himself he needs to get Cas away from him.

"NO!" Cas calls out, grabbing Dean's shirt and pulling him closer. "Please, don't g-" Dean watches as Cas's body struggles for air as another coughing fit tears through him.

Once the coughing dies down, Cas's fingers relax in Dean's shirt as his breathing returns to a somewhat normal pace. "You wanna tell me about that?"

"Just a cold, I'm fine.." Cas whispers.

Dean places a hand below Cas's chin and pulls his head up until they are looking at each other. Dean searches the blue eyes, willing them to open up and tell him the truth before he finally nods, knowing he isn't going to get anything out of the angel that he doesn't want to say.

"Then do you want to tell me why you're in my bed surrounded by whiskey bottles?" Dean asks.

A few moments pass before Cas is slowly shaking his head and Dean sighs, letting go of Cas's chin. "Can I stay?"

Dean listens to how small Cas's voice sounds, how broken he looks and only nods his head slightly. He pulls Cas close again, ignoring the pangs that go through him and only focuses on wanting to breathe Cas in. He buries his nose in Cas's hair, longing to tell Cas how he really feels...

"I know, Dean..." Cas whispers softly.

"You heard that?" Dean asks, pulling away slightly, eyes wide with shock.

"Angels can, uh.. Pick up on longings, not just prayers." Cas tells him, eyes locking on to his.

Dean stares down the blue depths in front of him as he processes the words. He starts to put a few pieces together before blinking slowly. His eyes travel over the face in front of him, and he feels himself longing to never let go of Cas; to always have his face buried in his neck or his hair or...

Cas quickly closes the space between the two of them and sighs, settling in quickly. "Me too," he whispers so softly, Dean almost misses it. Instead of replying, Dean only pulls him tighter against him, pushing thoughts of the Mark and memories of the church out of his head as he finally lets sleep overtake him.

For once in a very long time, Dean's sleep goes undisturbed by dreams of blood and pain. Only a pair of soft blue eyes show up before a blissful nothing...

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always loved :D


End file.
